Underneath the frost it turns
hidden in a fog it churns
winter snaps its coiled whip
cracks the ice but holds its grip.
It wraps the trees in shiver beads
chews on shadows, spits out seeds
to grace the gardens flocked in sleep
waiting for that northward leap
of the wandering, prodigal sun.
© 2014, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
Wishing everyone a gentle Winter’s Solstice
and a peaceful celebration of the holidays – the holy days –
whichever days are sacred to you.
For in the end, each day is sacred and precious.